Walk through the shadows
by lily moonlight
Summary: Flack recalls what happened when an arrest Stella and he set out to make went terribly wrong. Mac/Stella, Flack friendship, cameos from the rest of the team. Tragedy and romance, with a slight twist. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

-1**Disclaimer****: I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though****…**

**Notes: ****I'm a student and freelance writer living in Cornwall. This is my first CSI NY fan fiction, so any suggestions / feedback very welcome. Hopefully not too maudlin, and I'll write some happier stuff soon. Mac and Stella, and a little bit of Flack. This is Chapter 1.**

It was the end of a long investigation. All we'd had from the scene was a partial print on a carving knife. Until a final, desperate search of the suspect's apartment had yielded the merest trace of blood. It was enough. We had him. So now we were on our way to pick up the guy. There came the irony. After the weeks of work spent in the lab and beyond, all we had to do to arrest him was walk across the street. With any luck, I'd have time to grab a little something for lunch. I didn't put this to Stella though, knowing what she'd probably have to say on the subject.

It was our case, our arrest. Mac had left us to it when we needed it, and been right behind us when we needed that. He smiled as he saw us pulling our coats on, ready to leave the lab:

"Headed someplace nice?"

Stella grinned at him;

"Just across the street to pick up Mr Benatar. Won't take us a few minutes."

"Good. I have something to show you both when you return. Don't even think about grabbing lunch just yet, Flack."

How did he do it? Both of them stood there smirking at each other. Leaving me wide eyed.

"Who said anything about food? Why pick on me? She's always the one who insists we stop at every…."

"Get out the door, Flack." Stella pushed me forwards "If you're lucky, I'll buy you a pretzel."

"Hey, I'm lucky." I protested.

Shaking her head so her curls flew, she turned back to Mac and flashed a smile at him:

"We'll see you soon."

"Make sure you do." As often, his words were stern, but his eyes were bright. We left in good humour, and he watched us go.

He could have blamed me for what happened next, but he never did. I think he knew I blamed myself enough. Fact is, we walked straight out of the building and smack into our own crime scene.

Down the street, a little old lady was yelling in a voice bigger than her body that her purse had been snatched. Sure enough, a kid was running away from her right towards us. He'd picked a bad day for a purse snatch, two of New York's finest in his path. That was my mistake. We'd picked a bad day to be in his path. He came barrelling down the sidewalk towards us, Yankees cap over his hood. Typical punk.

"Stop him! He's got my purse!"

She was a feisty old dame, giving chase herself a good hundred yards behind. Pedestrians were shoved aside as the kid got closer. Badge at the ready, I stepped out in front of him, and caught a glance into his eyes. I knew the look I saw there. A wretched animal look: he needed however many bucks were in that little leather purse clutched in his fist. No one was going to stop him, least of all me. But I had to try.

His whole body weight slammed into my chest, and I went down. Like a ton of lead. It stalled him for a few seconds, and that gave Stella her opportunity. As I struggled to my feet, she had hold of him, and was pulling him up with a choice few words about mugging helpless old ladies. That gave him his opportunity. The snarl that came from his mouth was feral, and with the strength of the desperate he twisted in her grasp, pushed against her with a vicious grunt and broke free. She gasped and staggered a few steps before gaining her balance.

In seconds he was disappeared amongst the crowd. We'd lost him. I stood with a groan. Already a simple arrest was going badly wrong, and we hadn't even started. Stella was standing, one hand held to her chest. She wasn't looking at me.

"Stella. You okay?" I asked with a sudden sickening feeling. Something jumped in my mind. He had had something else in his hand. She turned to me, shock in her face, and drew her hand away. There was blood spreading across the front of her shirt and shining on her palm.

"Son of a bitch had a knife. I didn't see it."

She must have seen the horror in my eyes. "I'm sorry, should have stopped him…"

In a step I was at her side. People were stopping round us. From a long way off I heard the old lady yelling, still running. The crowd blurred at the edges, and I felt light-headed.

"Okay, it's okay. It doesn't matter. Don't say sorry. I should have stopped him, not you. Just stay still, keep your hand over the wound."

Emergency instinct took over, and I pulled out my cell, called EMS, then cleared space by flashing my badge around. And told them that no one was to leave, this was now a crime scene. That almost stuck in my throat. All the while, I was clinging hard to her arm: "Just hang on, we'll have you out of here in minutes. Mac'll hardly notice we've been gone."

She smiled faintly, skin already paling to waxen:

"Call him. Better tell him we're gonna be late."

I did. But it was a call I didn't want to make. I jerked out to Mac what had happened in the shortest terms. Before I could even hang up, he had. One of his detectives hurt; he would be there. And Stella was not just any of his detectives.

"He's coming. So's EMS, hang in there."

She nodded painfully, and then seemed to crumple against me. I held on. Almost carried her over to a stoop. "It's okay. I got you." Blood was running between her fingers. All I had was what I was wearing. I did what I could.

"Your jacket…" She murmured

"Doesn't matter."

It made little difference. I didn't want to think it, but I realised in a moment of freezing clarity that it wasn't looking good. Too much blood. She was going into shock, rapidly losing consciousness. Where the hell were the paramedics? "C'mon Stella. Stay with me. We got an arrest to make later, remember?"

"I remember." Her voice was fainter. Skin cold.

"Good girl. Remember what else we were gonna do?"

"Stella!"

Mac was suddenly there. Instinctively, everyone moved out of his way, fast. He was down beside us, moving me aside, kneeling next to her. I stood back a step. He wrapped her hand in his, pressed it against her. "Stella. It's Mac."


	2. Chapter 2

-1**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though****…**

**Notes****: Thank you so much for all reviews, very much appreciated. Here's chapter 2, hope chapter 1 was okay. Still not sure if I've got character and dialogue completely convincing yet so suggestions very welcome. Haven't managed to watch the show in a few weeks, can't always get channel five in Cornwall, grrr. If anyone can let me know how to find episodes on the internet, please tell me. Anyway, here goes, 'fraid things are not looking good, but there is a purpose to this…**

_Mac was suddenly there. Instinctively, everyone moved out of his way, fast. He was down beside us, moving me aside, kneeling next to her. I stood back a step. He wrapped her hand in his, pressed it against her. "Stella. It's Mac."_

"Mac, we got, held up…" Stella got the words out with difficulty. Mac smiled at her. Tilted her face towards him. His every move was careful, gentle.

"I'll forgive you. Listen to me, Stella. This is important, keep talking to me, okay? I'm gonna bug you with questions, but I want you to just keep answering. Got it?"

"Got it."

I could hardly hear her. There was blood on the steps now. But the worst would be the damage we couldn't see. I'd seen too many stab wounds not to know. I turned away, opening my cell again to find out where the damn ambulance was. And ran into Hawkes and Danny. Mac had not left alone. Two uniforms were hot on their heels as well. I don't think I've ever been so glad to see them. Give 'em credit, they asked no questions just started securing the scene, began on the witnesses. Hawkes dropped down beside Stella, began to do what he could.

Danny stared, unbelieving.

"Man, what the hell happened?"

I told him, and watched his face grow dark; "Bastard son of a bitch. We'll get him." He looked me straight in the eye; "How is she?"

I couldn't meet his gaze.

"She ain't good. I…"

I couldn't finish.

"You okay?"

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. Shock, guilt, call it whatever. I felt my legs buckling. Danny took a grip of me.

"Flack, whatever happened, wasn't your fault okay? Blaming yourself isn't gonna help anyone. Okay?"

"Okay."

He nodded;

"Good. Let's do this. For Stella."

He pushed his glasses up, and then silently began opening his kit. I breathed a good couple of deep breaths. Then opened my cell again to bawl out EMS. Whoever was on the other end of the line never knew what hit them. I didn't want to hear what they had to say about gridlock, if they weren't here in the next two minutes… I slammed my phone shut.

"Flack!"

Hawkes yelled at me; "Where's…"

"Two minutes." I knelt beside him. I didn't like what I saw. Stella was lying between them. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was rapid and shallow, and getting fainter. Too much blood. Mac still gripped her hand. His face was almost as white as hers. He was still talking to her, other hand against her cheek, keeping her with us:

"I'm still here, I'm not going to leave you. And you're not going to leave me. Are you still listening, Stella? Remember what I said. You gotta keep talking to me, okay? Stella?"

Realisations can crash into you in a moment. In an instant, you realise an unshakeable truth and wonder why you hadn't before now. In that moment I realised that if he could, Mac would give her his life, no hesitation. I wanted to tell him that he wouldn't need to, that she'd be fine. But I couldn't because I knew as well in that moment that it wasn't true.

We were losing her. Hawkes had his hand on her wrist. I could no longer hear her breathing. I saw his face. So did Mac.

"Stella! Come on, just hang in there please. It's not time yet, not your turn…" Urgently, he turned her face towards him. I saw no flicker of life. "Stella!" Her hand slipped from his and fell limp at her side.

Hawkes bent over her, then was bolt upright;

"I've got no pulse, no respiration. Mac, I need your help."

Like a man drowning, Mac let go his lifeline. Then the paramedics finally showed up. Took in the situation in seconds and took over. For the first time since this nightmare had begun I had a flash of hope that Stella might make it.


	3. Chapter 3

-1**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though****…**

**Warning:**** Some of you may not like what's about to happen, but please bear with me, there is a resolution. Also a few swear words.**

**Notes****: Thank you again for all reviews, very much appreciated, they're what a writer likes best so ****please add more! Here's chapter 3, not quite the end of the road. Still don't know if I've got character and dialogue completely convincing yet so suggestions very welcome. **

_For the first time since this nightmare began, I had a flash of hope that she might make it._

Stella Bonasera. The strongest and bravest woman I've ever known. No stranger to a fight, and never one to run away. She was fighting hard. And at her side, Mac was fighting as well. She wasn't going to die on a New York street. The city wasn't going to claim her just yet. Not if Mac had anything to do with it.

We both rode with her in the ambulance. I was wordless, keeping out of the way. There was nothing more I could do. Nothing more I could say to Mac. Everything seemed to have shut down inside him. His sole focus was Stella and willing stronger the thread of life she was hanging on by. I willed it too with all I had in me. It was the one thing I was good for.

The journey through rush hour traffic lasted an eternity, so it seemed. Stella held on. They brought her back from the brink twice after she arrested: by the time we reached Mount Sinai she was breathing. The whole time Mac held her fingertips and spoke only to her. Only once she opened her eyes and in that instant I saw hope return to Mac. Too briefly. He began to smile, but she drifted away again and his smile was gone. It burned me again realising just how much her life meant to his.

Once inside the hospital, we were out of our territory. Despite his rank-pulling, not something Mac Taylor does lightly, he could go with her no further. It felt then as if a tidal wave had crashed over us: a wash of people running, shouting, moving. We were bumped and jostled and overwhelmed. And in the middle, almost lost amongst it all was Stella pulled by other hands away from us. I saw Mac reach out helplessly and lose his grip on her.

We were left alone. Mac slumped down in a chair, and his head dropped into his hands. A drowning man. My legs needed a chair as well, I had to sit. The ache in my chest which I'd ignored up to that point, could be ignored no longer. It hurt and I was furious that it hurt. For chrissakes, it had been a year since the injury, was it always going to be a weakness? I couldn't face that my weakness had almost killed Stella: If I'd been stronger, I could have stopped the perp, arrested him and we wouldn't be here now. That hurt more than I could bear, and I covered my face with my hands, couldn't stop the tears.

Something made me look up. Mac's gaze was on me:

"Mac…"

"It wasn't your fault, Flack."

I nodded. I knew I'd needed to hear that from him, even if I didn't believe it. It wasn't the time for a guilt trip though. I had to offer him something:

"She'll pull through, Mac. This is Stella, you know damn straight she doesn't give up."

Mac's eyes were darkness:

"I hope so."

Those three words told me everything. I added my hope and a prayer.

"She'll make it."

If I said it enough, perhaps I could make it true. All we had left was hope and it was almost gone.

A clock in the room ticked the seconds by though it felt like centuries. Then we heard shouts for assistance, people were running, doors banging. My heart turned cold at what that had to mean. Mac was already running. Oblivious to the few people who tried to stop him. I followed close behind as he exploded through the doors to where she was. I didn't want to face the truth but I had to be there for him.

We were too late. Too fuckin' late. We fell into a scene of total devastation. Death had won a bloody battle. They had only just called time. We couldn't see her at first, a ring of white surrounded the bed. Medical staff, fluttering and ruffled like birds at our intrusion.

"What the hell do you think you're doing…You shouldn't be in here!"

I didn't care less whether we should or shouldn't be there. And told them that, as well as who we were. Someone tried to push us back towards the door. Mac was having none of it, lunged forward, broke past and then stopped dead.

His face twisted in anguish. I had to choke back tears. Stella lay there, broken, her life all bled away. Lying in the stillness of death. That single second of time stretched on in silence and then it snapped.

Mac lost control. Yelled at them, tried to make them continue, to resuscitate again, that there was still a chance. I knew there wasn't. She had gone. I tried to lead him away, someone else took a hold of his arm trying to drag him. He lost it then and took a swing at the guy. So I took over, got control of the situation, grabbed hold of Mac hard and told him straight that this was no way to handle it, what would Stella think? I gained us a minute alone and the medics left us reluctantly. We needed to say goodbye.

I still had hold of Mac by the shoulders. The look in his eyes was that of a man who had lost life itself. But I had to say what I did:

"Mac, you have no idea how hard this is for me to say to you, but I've gotta say it. She's gone, Mac. Stella's gone. Let her go peacefully. This should never have happened, we know that. Be angry, but not here, use it to nail the bastard. That's what we've got to do for her. But let her go peacefully here."

The pain in his eyes as he looked at me tore into my heart:

"How can I let her go? Tell me that, Don. If I do that I've lost everything."

I had no answer to that. All I could do was let him walk over to her. His touch was unbearably tender as he smoothed her hair away from her face, clasped her hand in his and sank down beside her, head bent. I had to walk away. My goodbye was silent. My eyes were blinded.

**I'm sorry! But please keep reading, all is not lost I promise. One more chapter to go. Please tell me what you think, I hope the time structure is not too confusing.**


	4. Chapter 4

-1**Disclaimer:**** I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though****…**

**Notes****: Thank you again for all reviews, very much appreciated, they're what a writer likes best so please add more! Here's chapter 4, the conclusion, little bit longer than the previous chapters. Thanks for reading through, hope I've not upset anyone too much, and hope this can make up for what happened earlier...**

_I had to walk away. My goodbye was silent. My eyes were blinded._

The days that followed were the longest any of us had ever lived through. A piece of every one of us had been ripped away. Anger, rage, and then grief we could hardly bear. The case was taken away from us, too close they thought, maybe so, but it took away from us the power to give justice to Stella.

The lab was never the same. A light was gone. Hawkes retreated into his medical sanctuary, he barely spoke to us, his work pulled him through. Sid never recovered. I was the one who told him, and the look of devastation on his face I will never erase from my mind. He lost all joy that day. Danny and Lindsay had at least each other's comfort. Though the silver of tears showed on her face for a long time, and Danny's laughter was hardly heard.

As for me, I tried to go on as best I could, but found myself haunted, and adrift from the others. It almost broke me. Sometimes alone in the lab, through a flash of dust in the sun, I saw… shadows. On the streets, sometimes a glimpse of green eyes, curls tossing, and my heart would jump. At a shadow.

Mac lived in the shadows. He was a man in a winter of grief. His eyes were frozen, and his smile had vanished beneath the ice. He never spoke her name to any of us. At her funeral he stood in his own unreachable despair. He gave her a single rose.

They caught her killer eventually. It took six months. But they got the son of a bitch. The worst was to come though when we discovered that the purse he'd snatched had contained ten bucks and nothing else. He'd taken it out and tossed the purse. Ten bucks. Stella had died for ten bucks. That day I found Mac standing in the locker room, every single door smashed from its hinges, blood running from his hand. He walked past me and out of there without a word. My fist found the wall.

But the days still passed. Days became weeks, became months. And we found that we could begin to remember Stella and smile. Hesitant at first, almost guiltily, but we realised that was how we should remember. Everything about her: how she laughed, how she shouted, her temper, impatience, generosity, love and how she lived. That we remembered and smiled to do so.

Time crept on, until a year had passed. And it turned out that a year to the day, Mac and I were driving past where it had happened. Not an unusual occurrence. Hell, I walked past the place near enough every day. And never once had I not thought about what happened, run it through my mind and changed events, thinking each time what if: what if we had left a little later, a little sooner, what if I'd been able to hold onto the kid, what if the ambulance had come sooner. If. The most painful word. Truth is, any number of ifs weren't gonna change a thing. It happened, one event followed the next, Stella was gone.

I glanced across at Mac who was staring straight ahead. Nothing was registering in his expression, although I could guess what some of his thoughts were. He knew as well as I did when and where we were. But he stared right ahead, hands gripping the wheel. Something prompted me to speak, and at least acknowledge the moment. I cleared my throat.

"A year today, Mac. Seems like yesterday."

It did and it didn't. I was struggling for the right words. A fractional tilt of his head was the only indication that he had heard me. But I couldn't seem to stop myself talking:

"I know it's been hard for you, Mac…"

He turned then and looked right at me. Ice in his eyes. My voice sank away as I realised with shame that I couldn't even begin to understand how hard.

I looked away out of the window, and as I did in the corner of my vision for an instant I could have sworn that I saw someone sitting with us. My pulse jumped, but then everything happened at once. I heard shouts from outside, and a scream of brakes. I looked ahead and wished I hadn't because I saw an articulated lorry bearing right down on us. My heart almost stopped then. Mac flung the wheel sideways. I felt the car lurch; the world slowed and became only the shriek of breaking glass and tearing metal, we were falling and then everything faded to black.

I came to lying on my back inside an ambulance, headache the size of the Empire State. I sat bolt upright and nearly knocked out Danny who was leaning over, anxiety in his face:

"What…"

"…The hell happened, am I doing in the back of a bus?, something like that huh?"

There was no humour in his eyes as he said this though, and I felt a pit of horror opening up in front of me:

"I remember exactly what happened, Messer. A lorry hit us. Where's Mac?"

He squinted nervously at me and didn't answer.

"Just say it, whatever it is, I need to know."

Not again, today of all days, not Mac. I could feel my blood freezing and my voice rose. "Don't bullshit me, Danny, what's happened. I got out, did he?"

"Not as we left. Hawkes and I got the call there'd been an accident. He's still there with Mac, uh, they were… they were cutting him free. Linds is there as well. I came with you."

I couldn't speak. I was falling. Danny must have seen this:

"I'm not going through the guilt and blame thing with you again, Flack. Blame the punk driving the lorry. I saw the scene, he was out of his lane. 'Besides, you weren't even driving."

"I know that."

And I did. The problem was that it was happening again, as it had a year ago. I hadn't been able to prevent an accident. I hadn't been able to save Stella, was it going to be the same with Mac?

Danny was staring at me; probably making a good guess at what I was thinking.

I had to lay back then. My head seemed to be swelling into a balloon which, if I didn't concentrate, would float away from me. It was also pounding like a subway train was inside it. Danny loomed into my vision, and seemed to be wavering at the edges:

"Hey, Flack, stay with me man."

I remember opening my mouth to say something smart back to him, but at that moment, my head started to float away. Last thing I remembered was Danny reaching towards me.

I was aware of lights, and a humming noise. And my head hurt. Really hurt. The subway train still was running through it, but I opened my eyes. Danny was there again:

"You making a habit of sitting at my bedside?" I croaked. But I was glad to see him.

"Yeah, well, had nothing else doing, so… how you doing?"

"Great, just great. What's going on? How's Mac?"

I knew it wasn't good news. Danny's face betrayed him. He told me:

"Not good. They got him out of the wreck, took nearly an hour, they brought him here 'bout a half hour ago. They're doing what they can, but I gotta tell you, it's not looking good." He took off his glasses and wiped them carefully. "There's a lot of damage, fractured ribs, punctured kidney, one lung collapsed. He's in surgery now. Lindsay and Hawkes are waiting outside. You wanna see them?"

I couldn't face them. I knew what they'd have to say, and I didn't want to hear it. Only thing I wanted to hear was that Mac was going to recover.

"Dan, the last thing I want right now is to see anyone. Just… just give me some time. Go wait with the others. Come back and tell me when you hear anything, anything at all. Please."

He opened his mouth to argue with me, then shrugged and stood up:

"Whatever you want. Remember we're not far. Shout if you need us. I'll be back the minute we hear."

And he was. Waking me from a doze in which I had heard a voice I was sure I knew speaking to me, and felt a light touch on my hand. Definitely not Danny's. He was brief. Mac was out of surgery, and was still with us, just.

A night and a day passed the same. The rest of the team took turns sitting with Mac and trying to talk to me. They failed mainly on that count. I had nothing to say. But I hated myself finally when Lindsay stood up and walked out on me after getting monosyllables from me for an hour. The hurt in her eyes cut me deep as she said quietly:

"I'm only trying to help, Flack. You're not the only one who's suffered. We're just trying to help each other." She left me feeling like a rat.

I made a decision then. I was only being kept in now for observation. Far as I saw it there wasn't enough wrong with me to keep me in a hospital bed. There was nothing and no one to stop me getting up and taking a turn sitting with Mac. It was the least I could do for the man I owed my life to.

After dressing as best I could, I set out along the corridors, no one stopping me. I was in no mood to argue anyway. I found Hawkes reading in a chair at Mac's bedside. He nearly dropped his book when he saw me:

"You are not supposed to be here!"

"Yeah? Well I am, so deal with it. Listen, Hawkes, I know I've been a major pain in the ass, so here's the deal: you go home and get a few hours sleep, and I'll stay here."

He tried to protest, told me I should be back in bed, but there was no way I was backing down. I opened up a little and told him that I owed this to Mac. That there were things I needed to say, which if I didn't and something happened… Hawkes understood. Just gave me a resigned sigh and prepared to go.

"I'll be back in two hours. Call me if you need anything."

His hand was on my shoulder for a moment then I was alone with Mac who was almost unrecognisable, surrounded by machines; the only things keeping life within. Seeing him like that, after he had suffered so much already, made me angry as hell. I didn't know what to say at first. Just stared, my eyes drawn to the lights flashing around him, in hypnotic sequences. Bright light above the bed, and bright white sheets. Mac lying in the light. And beyond were the shadows.

I began to talk. The words fell from my mouth. About everything. From the day he saved my life, to the day Stella lost hers, to this day and him fighting for his life. My eyes were stinging with tears as I ran out of words.

And I looked away from him into the darkness at the edges of the room, where the shadows were shifting and shrinking back. I breathed in and it froze in my throat.

Stella was standing there.

Stella, as real as life, but with a gleam of the stars in her eyes. I saw her as true as I see my own reflection. Even though I should have doubted my sanity, I knew this was something that just was. I breathed out and felt myself slip into acceptance.

She walked to Mac's side soundlessly, laid her hand against his cheek, and spoke his name.

His eyes flickered open and a smile broke onto his face. Her smile was radiant in return.

"Mac. I've missed you."

"You came back."

"I never left. I've always been there."

The pain returned to his face:

"I couldn't reach you. And I couldn't save you, you shouldn't have died."

Her other hand held tightly to his, and the light in her eyes dimmed for a moment:

It wasn't your fault, nor was it Flack's fault. I didn't want to go, but it happened and there was nothing you could have done, either of you could have done, about it."

In that instant, even as I knew I could never speak of it to anyone else, she gave to me a peace in my heart that I can never lose.

Mac's features were still drawn with pain:

"All this time you've been gone, I missed you. You don't know…"

"I do know, Mac. But that's why I came back now. So you weren't alone." She had light around her, and around Mac. I understood then.

They were standing together, next to the motionless figure on the bed, hands joined. Stella spoke:

"This time we go together."

They were gone. I was the only living soul in the room.

THE END

**My first CSI NY fan fic. I hope you liked it, please let me know what you thought: I really value feedback and criticisms, and any good points too! I have a few more ideas for stories, so please review. Thank you for reading to the end.**


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